Chapter Two

“Catherine, come with me,” Erik said when they woke up the next morning. She nodded sleepily and stood. Erik slipped a soft white gown of sheer gauze over her body, brushing her arms as he went. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the gondola in the lake. Her long blonde hair brushed against his bare chest as she held on tightly to his neck.

“Where are we going, Erik? I must get back! They'll wonder where I am.”

“They already do wonder. That's why I'm taking you back. You are needed up there now. But you will return to me tonight, will you not?”

She smiled. “Yes, of course.” He set her in the boat and they began their way to the other side, where he carried her up the spiral staircase. They were halfway up when someone above screamed. It was not a bone-chilling scream of terror, but one of dreadful pain. Catherine quivered in Erik's arms.

“I've got you, Catherine.” She gulped, then nodded again. He kissed her softly before setting her on the solid stone landing. “Go now, my dear. Straight through this hallway to the glass mirror at the end, then push open the door.”

He gave her a slight shove, and she began to run quickly and quietly. She reached the end in no time and shortly passed through the mirror. The scene that met her stole the blood from her face and made her heart pound three times as fast as it had previously. “Oh, God! Katrina!” she cried, rushing forward. She grabbed her young friend's hand. It was clammy to the touch.
“Catherine,” Katrina whispered, with obvious effort. “Raise ... Christine.” Catherine crinkled her brow, confusion evident. She glanced around, at the bloody bedclothes, the pale face of Madame Katrina Daae, the busy hands of Madame Piangi.

“Oh, Katrina,” she gasped, as the violinist's young wife was struck with the final pang of childbirth. In seconds, a cold baby girl writhed in Madame Piangi's hands. Catherine stared at the child for a second, then back at Katrina. “Katrina! Look, dear, your daughter!”

“Christine,” she murmured again, trying to raise herself to see the squalling babe. Madame Piangi wrapped the child in clean blankets and handed her to Katrina, who fell back on the fluffy white pillow. She clasped Christine to her, closing her eyes, her breath coming raggedly now. Catherine watched in silence, her eyes clouding with unwanted, unshed tears.

“Katrina, you must give me the child now,” Madame Piangi ordered gently. She nodded to Catherine, who reached over to lift the child from her mother's arms. The baby was wailing loudly now, her tiny face now more red than the newborn blue it had been only seconds ago.
“Rest now, Katrina.” Catherine said, giving the child to Madame Piangi. She turned again to Katrina, and pulled the covers to the woman's no longer moving bosom. “Madame!” she cried to the prima donna. The matron hurried over, but it was to late. Baby Christine Daae's mother was dead.

Four months later, the Opera Populaire was abuzz with gossip and speculations. Young Carlotta was thrilled at the amazing turn of events: since Catherine was missing, now she could be the prima ballerina! For indeed, Catherine Bourbon had disappeared, and the only person who knew where she was, was too little to speak. Only four-month-old Christine Daae had heard Catherine's plans to flee the wrath of Madame Guidichelli, the disappointment of Madame Piangi, the sneers of the ballet girls, and Erik's calculating coolness. She fled to her home city of Dijon, far away from Paris.

There, she was met by an elderly merchant, a widower with five children. She employed herself as governess, and was thrilled when he married her to care for him and his estate, which he bequeathed to her when he died seven years later. The money that she made from the sale of the house was enough to take her and her young daughter back to Paris, where she was met with some rather shocking changes.

The opera house had changed management and was now in the command of Monsieur Gregory Lefevre, who believed that thirty-five was to old to be an opera singer. Thus, Madame Piangi was thrown from her position as was the lead male singer. Madame Guidichelli did not wait to be fired – she left when Carlotta and Ubaldo Piangi were married and became the stars of the Opera Populaire. So, when Catherine returned, she was immediately offered the position of ballet mistress, and Meg Giry that of a ballerina in her mother's show. It was through ballet that Meg and Christine Daae became close friends. Catherine was delighted to be reunited with Gustave Daae and her young charge. But tragedy would soon strike Christine again.
“Madame Giry!” she cried one day, coming down the hall in a flurry of brunette hair and white clothes. Catherine turned from speaking with the manager to find her little friend, tears streaming down her face.

“Christine, whatever is the matter?” she asked, wiping the tears from the girl's face with her thumb.

“Papa!” she gasped. “Father told me to look for the angel of music, and then he fell asleep, and he won't wake up! He's not breathing! I think he's...” she couldn't bring herself to finish, but hurled herself at Catherine. Madame Giry scooped the sobbing little girl up into her arms, and beckoned Meg to follow her.

“Monsieur Lefevre, please fetch a doctor.” He nodded and hurried off in the other direction. Catherine went the other way towards Monsieur Daae's apartments. She reached there in little time, then put down Christine and whispered to Meg to keep her friend busy. Meg nodded, smiled and took Christine's hand.

When Monsieur Lefevre and the doctor arrived later on, they were too late. The covers were pulled over the man's head, and the curtain's were closed. In Christine's small life, she had lost both her parents, and, although she did not remember it, had been witness to both deaths. Catherine took the child to the dormitories, and it was there that the child lived, until eight years later, when several phenomenons led her to the room of the prima donna.